For Your Own Protection(64)

‘Come in,’ a deep voice said on the other side.

‘Go on,’ the man behind him prompted. ‘Don’t keep Mr Samson waiting.’

Nick Samson? The club owner?

He opened the door and was steered into the room by the man who had brought him there. The door closed behind them.

It was like they’d just walked into an industrial studio apartment. The large open-plan room was subdivided into zones, with a kitchen area, gym and living space. In the living space, a huge flat-screen television hung on the wall, showing a baseball game. The man who was sitting on a sofa in the corner stood up to greet him.

‘Nick Samson,’ he said, proffering a hand as he approached. His tight polo shirt showed off a toned physique. Matt could see he was a few years younger than himself. ‘I own this club. And you are?’

‘Matt Roberts,’ he managed weakly.

Samson smiled professionally. His grip was firm. ‘Drink, Matt?’

‘I’m okay, thanks.’

‘Fair enough. It’s okay, Joseph, you can wait downstairs.’

The man who’d manhandled Matt all the way to the office looked perturbed by that order. He seemed to be about to question it, but thinking better of it, just nodded and left the room.

‘I do hope Joseph treated you well,’ Samson said. Matt realised he had a surprisingly well-spoken accent.

‘He did,’ Matt lied. He wasn’t going to complain about the pain just now.

‘That’s good. He can be a bit overenthusiastic. Into mixed martial arts.’ Samson gestured to the corner of the room. ‘Please, do take a seat.’

Matt perched on the edge of a comfy chair, as Nick Samson seated himself on the sofa opposite.

Samson gazed up at the television. ‘Three weeks ago, I was there in Boston, watching the Red Sox.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘Amazing game. And a great city.’

‘I can imagine,’ Matt managed to say, his nerves so fraught that his teeth were chattering and his body was buzzing. The gravity of the situation, that he’d just been frogmarched into the private office of Nick Samson, was only just hitting home.

‘So,’ Samson said, ‘you’re not a regular here, are you, Matt?’

Matt tried to slow his breathing, without making it obvious. ‘No, just my second time.’

‘Well, good to have you back. I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you up here.’

‘Because I was asking questions about a friend of mine who’s gone missing.’

There was no point in lying.

Samson nodded. ‘James Farrah. He a good friend of yours?’

Matt was struggling to calm himself as Samson gazed at him with intense grey-blue eyes. ‘A work colleague.’

‘And he’s gone missing?’

Matt nodded.

‘What makes you think anyone in this club knows his whereabouts?’

‘It was somewhere he visited. I thought someone here might be able to help.’

‘Matt, I appreciate you’re worried about your friend, but what you did down there wasn’t very smart.’ Samson smiled tightly.

Matt felt his heart skip a beat. ‘I don’t understand.’

The smile faded. ‘Since I took over this club four years ago, I’ve worked hard to keep it clean and ensure it’s a safe and secure place for my clients to come and enjoy a night out. In the main, I’ve succeeded, but that doesn’t mean to say it’s the kind of place where you can go around asking questions, bothering people.’

‘I’m sorry . . .’

Samson held out a hand. ‘I didn’t bring you up here for an apology. I got you up here for your own safety. You were the talk of the gaming floor. In this kind of place, people don’t ask questions. They hardly even look at one another. The guy you tried talking to at the roulette table, a very important client for us, he wasn’t happy. And really, he’s one person you don’t want to annoy.’

Matt flushed as he thought back to his amateurish efforts at investigation.

‘Why are you looking for Farrah? He’s a grown man,’ Samson said.

There was no way Matt was going to bring Charlie into this, so he’d not be explaining the full situation here. ‘I’m concerned about him.’

‘I’d like to help, Matt, but we don’t reveal any details about members – only to the authorities, not to members of the public.’

Matt nodded. ‘I understand.’

‘So I’m afraid we can’t help you. What I can tell you is that, yes, James Farrah is a member here. He’s a regular visitor – or at least he was, up until recently. But that’s as much as I can help you with.’

Matt stood. ‘Am I free to leave?’

‘Of course, of course. Joseph will show you out.’

Matt moved towards the door.

‘Matt,’ Samson said. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to hand in your membership card on the way out. When our members cross the threshold to Samson’s, they expect a certain sense of security. I hope you understand. We have to protect our clients.’

‘Of course.’

‘One more thing,’ Samson called out, as Matt pulled open the door. Matt turned to face him. ‘I admire you for searching for your friend. I really do. But sometimes when a man disappears, it’s because he doesn’t want to be found.’